


FICTOBER 2020 (31 days of prompts)

by PostApocolypticAlien



Category: The X-Files
Genre: 31 days of writing, Fictober 2020, Gen, prompt list, writing everyday
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:50:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 7,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26750143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PostApocolypticAlien/pseuds/PostApocolypticAlien
Summary: 31 days of prompts all through October. A prompt list I'm planning on working my way through for the month.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 17
Kudos: 59





	1. Day 1:That's starting to get annoying

**Author's Note:**

> For fictober. This is very similar to my 50 days of prompts but I'm using different a different prompt set.

Another crack and it drives her pen into the paper harder than necessary.

From the spot he so elegantly claimed as _Her Area_ she watches as he flicks a shell onto the ground, joining the growing pile at his feet.

If the tension between them wasn’t so palpable right now (she’s still reeling from the Ed Jerse situation) this wouldn’t be bothering her so. Afterall, he’s done this countless times; in this office, in the car, in the motel room. Shells everywhere, crunching on one every second of the day.

But today, it irritates her. Scully knows she’s due her period some point this week, that her irritation levels had been higher than usual- somebody not updating the coffee tub was enough to have her in a foul mood for the rest of the day- but she’s reaching her breaking point with this.

“Stop that,” she tells him, doing nothing to hide how irritable she feels from her voice. “That’s starting to get annoying.”

Mulder looks up at her with mild confusion written on his face. Of course he would be confused, she’s never told him to stop doing anything before, but his look how just causes her to become more annoyed with him.

“Stop what?” he asks.

Scully tuts and rolls her eyes. She can’t be bothered explaining what he’s doing. If anything she just wants to get away from him, or him away from her. She shakes her head, tries to focus on her report.

“You’ve clearly got a problem Scully, so why don’t you just tell me what it is.”

Another crack and he spits the shell out this time.

“ _That_ ,” she says, exasperated and pointing at the shell pile. “Stop doing _that_.”

Mulder looks down at the floor then back at her.

He has the audacity to shrug.

“Never bothered you before.”

“Well, it’s bothering me now.”

Another crack, another spit. _He’s doing it on purpose_ , she thinks.

Scully slams the file shut, pushes her chair back so it scrapes along the floor, and starts stuffing her things into the bag with more force than needed.

“Where are you going?”

“To find another office.”

She slings the strap on her shoulder and makes her way to the door.

“You know, you do a lot of things that piss me off too, Scully, but you don’t hear me bitching about it.”

She knows she should go, but she can’t resist it. She turns on her heels and crosses her arms over her chest.

“What?” she asks, anger now lacing her voice. “What do I do that annoys you?”

“Tap the pen when you’re bored, tap your nails against every surface you can find. Whine because I send you on cases you have no interest in.” He smirks then, as if he’s thought of something funny. “Though, you eventually found an interest in the Philly case, didn’t you?”

And this is what it all goes back to. The Philadelphia case, Ed Jerse, the desk, the nameplate. Feeling like she doesn’t exist, that her pain and suffering was just collateral damage. She should have left this office years ago. Left to join another department, one were she would actually be counted as a member and not just something that gets in the way.

“Maybe you should look for a new partner, Mulder,” she suggests with cool anger. “Clearly, we’re not working well together anymore.”

“Maybe I will,” Mulder answers, equally as cool.

There’s nothing more to say. Scully looks down at the pile of shells, watching as another joins the rest. She huffs and rolls her eyes before turning back around and leaving.

Her plan to find another office gets deterred when feels her nose begin to run and a metallic taste on her lip. She touches it, bright red blood now sitting on her thumb and makes a hurried dash for the bathroom.

She still hasn’t told him. She will never tell him.


	2. Hey, hey, calm down. They can't hurt you anymore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Irresistible. Time Can Heal universe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little sneak peak into later Time Can Heal chapters.

He’s floating on the surface, dosing off for ten minutes only to wake then dose off again. Any sound will have him awake, alert, ready to push Scully under the bed and fight whatever it is that wants to invade.

But he can’t fight this.

He can just watch the way her eyes dart about, the way her entire body stiffens, muffled cries, and her tiny hand, trying with all the strength it has, to turn into a fist.

It doesn’t take Mulder long to realise what’s happening, what he’s witnessing.

In college, they had touched briefly upon sleep paralysis. It had been apart of the dreams module. One lecture was spent on it, after that, it was time to move on. It was always something that had intrigued Mulder, how the lines between sleep and awake were blurred. It could’ve easily been an X-File.

Scully’s eyes have settled somewhere towards the corner. She’s panicked, a tear slipping out from her eye. There’s a spookiness to it all, a chill running through Mulder’s spine at the thought that she’s seeing something he doesn’t.

And whatever it is, it’s scaring her. Maybe it’s memories from her abduction, or the events of tonight, or some dream-warped version of the two combined.

Whatever it is, Scully’s experiencing it as if it’s real. It _is_ real to her.

He doesn’t know how he can help her, though. Does he wait until it’s over, surely it doesn’t last long. Or does he pull her out now?

He chooses the second option, remembering bits and pieces from his school days. The sleep world is stronger than the wake world and he needs to do something to connect her back to the wake world, actually wake her up. Make a noise? No, that could startle her even more.

Then he remembers her hand, how hard it was trying to make a fist. She knows she needs to bring herself back.

He lies over her, one hand on her arm, the other on over her fist, soothing his thumb over.

“Scully,” he says and her eyes look over to him. Is she seeing him, he wonders? She’s seeing something.

“Scully, I need you to squeeze your fist,” he tells her. “Can you do that? Just squeeze your fist. You’re having a nightmare.” Her eyes float back over to the corner. It’s still there.

“It’s not real, Scully. Whatever it is you’re seeing, it isn’t real.” Her eyes move back to him. Good, keep them on me. “Just squeeze.” He tries to help her, to tighten his hold over her fist, to bring her back.

And it works. Her body relaxes, her hand releases the fist and she falls into his chest, crying, sobbing.

Mulder holds her, taken aback by the force of her body slamming into his.

He embraces her, clutching her to his chest, careful not to touch her hair and rubs his hand over her back.

_Why didn’t you tell me, Scully?_ he thinks but he won’t say it. Now isn’t the time to ask such a question.

“They were…” she splutters out then her words are replaced by even louder sobs.

She’s working herself up.

“Hey, hey,” says Mulder, his lips against her hairline. “Calm down. They can’t hurt you anymore.”

Maybe he’s lying to her. They can still hurt her, like this, in her dreams.

“Promise me,” she says, sobs subsiding.

It’s something he shouldn’t promise, can never promise, but he does it anyway because he wants to.

“I promise.”


	3. You can't just sit there all day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set around s6 before they get the X-Files back.

Something light hits her on the back.

Scully stops typing, pursues her lips and looks behind her.

Mulder is smiling at her, swinging on his chair, and points the floor. Scully looks, finding a scrunched up piece of paper- the thing that most likely hit her- lying by her chair.

She decides to humour Mulder by picking it up, smooths it out and is wholly unimpressed when she sees what it is.

“Seriously, Mulder?” she asks. In her hand lies a ridiculously drawing a Kersh riding a broom, wearing a witches hat.

Mulder, still smiling, shrugs. Someone’s impressed with their work of art, it seems.

Scully sighs and shakes her head.

“You can’t just sit there all day, you know,” she tells him. “Have you actually done any work?”

His smile fades and a pout takes its place.

“My ears hurt from having the phone hanging off it all day,” he complains.

Sometimes he was just a man-child.

She turns away from him and back to her work. She’s always been moved because Kersh found out she and Mulder had been doing more chatting than working (well, Mulder had been doing more chatting than work but Kersh liked to play a little game called I’m going to make your partner suffer whenever you do something I don’t like)

“What have you got there, Agent Scully?”

She was just about to put the drawing away when their ASAC Agent Andrews materialises at her desk.

“Er…just a scrap piece of paper,” she says, knowing full well she couldn’t say what it really was.

“May I see it?” Andrews asks.

Scully glances to Mulder- it’s his drawing after all- but Mulder has slipped behind his computer screen, no doubt pretending to do work and acting like he has no idea what’s going on.

He’s leaving her to deal with this.

Scully turns back to the ASAC.

“It’s just a phone number I got wrong.”

Andrews ignores her, however, snatching the paper up from beneath her pad.

Scully looks away, preparing for whatever consequence is going to come her way.

Andrews remains calm, scrunching the paper up between his hands and dropping it into Scully’s wastebin.

“See me in my office, Agent Scully,” is all he says before he makes the path towards the office behind the bullpen.

With a deep breath, Scully stands and looks over to Mulder. The rouse of doing work up, he’s watching her and at least has the decency to look apologetic.

Andrews stands motioning Scully to sit down. She does so and tries not to let her fingers tangle together.

“I know background checks are a dull and boring task for someone with your qualifications,” he begins and Scully fights not to roll her eyes. This man is just a Wannabe-Kersh.

_“But I believe they are a step up from the X-Files.”_

_I didn’t lose braincells working on the X-Files._ Actually it was quite the opposite.

“Yes, sir,” is all she says in reply.

“We stop terrorism, Agent Scully, which perhaps isn’t your forte if I’m remembering Dallas correctly but the higher-ups think it’s safer to have you in here than it is to have you out there.” He pauses and Scully glances up at him.

“Or is it?” Andrews continues. “When you want to waste your time drawing silly pictures of your superior?”

“No, sir.”

Andrews looks at her disappointedly and it’s worse than if he was just to scream at her.

“I expected better from you, Agent Scully.”

It stings. It stings because he really thinks she’s that immature. I’m an adult, for god’s sake. And so are you, Mulder.

“Don’t let it happen again.”

“Yes, sir.”

Her anger towards Mulder rises when she sees him. He sits like he was waiting for her to return, ready to make jokes and laugh like that wasn’t humiliating enough for her.

“What’s wrong?” he asks when he sees her face. “You have to supply your own toilet brush?”

“Hilarious, Mulder,” Scully says as she sits down.

Tomorrow she’s requesting to move seats.


	4. I need a place to stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set around s8 after Mulder comes back to life.

Coming back from the dead was turning out to be harder than staying alive.

Firstly, everyone thinks you’re dead and then you need to deal with them all being confused; Skinner, The Lone Gunmen, Scully…Secondly, all you’re stuff is just gone. So not only are you trying to reconcile being alive again but also you’re homeless and unemployed. And hungry. Actually, Mulder’s starving.

“Sorry,” is all his landlord can say to him when he rings up asking why is lock has been changed.

Somebody else lives there now. So what happened to all his stuff?

It leaves Mulder with the last option: _Scully._

Not that Scully isn’t a great option, she is, and he would usually be begging to share her bed and share her apartment and keep her all to himself… _in the past._ Right now, Scully is pregnant. Very pregnant and that fact can’t be ignored.

Scully is a difficult topic right now.

But Mulder also doesn’t have much choice. While Scully comes with a baby, she also comes with food and warmth and a bed and it’s that package that ultimately wins out.

.:.:.:.:.

It’s a very tentative knock on her door.

Scully doesn’t want him here. She’s busy. Busy doing pregnancy stuff and he’s just gonna get in the way and maybe he should go _andmaybeheshould’vejuststayeddead…Oh my god the door is opening._

“Hi,” says Scully. She seems shy, the door barely open but off the latch at least.

And even with all that in his head Mulder simply says _Hi_ back to her.

“What can I do for you, Mulder?”

In many ways their interactions remind Mulder of the early days of their partnership. When he could show up unannounced and Scully would tow the line of courteous and pleasant.

“Um…I need a place to stay?” he half tells, half asks her. “My landlord let my apartment go because I was, you know…”

Scully nods. He was dead and neither of them can bring themselves to say it.

She opens the door wider to allow him in.

“You can stay here,” she says.

Mulder smiles and walks in. He hates how awkward this is. This isn’t them.

The front door shuts and Mulder stands awkwardly in the middle of the hall, in the way apparently by the way Scully has to squeeze through the gap between his body and a cupboard. He almost apologises but even that seems awkward.

“The spare room is now the nursery,” she says looking towards the floor. “But I haven’t got rid of the mattress if…”

“Sure,” Mulder cuts in. The mattress in the nursery is fine but he longs for her bed. With her.

He scratches his head self-consciously.

“I haven’t eaten. Do you have anything?”

“Oh, right.” She motions to the kitchen. “Help yourself.”

He looks around the fully-stocked kitchen. She’s not in work anymore, he notes. She has time to go grocery shopping.

His stomach grumbles and he could really do with some dinner but cooking just seems too obtrusive right now so he settles for a sandwich.

She’s gone from the living room when he turns around so he pretty much scoffs down the sandwich and searches for her.

He finds her in the nursery, the mattress on the floor, herself kneeling on it and trying to make the bed. _Trying._

“Scully,” he says placing a hand on her arm to still her. “I can do that.”

She looks at him and nods, then uses his shoulder to stand. She goes to leave, before she stops and turns.

“You can sleep in my bed with me, you know. Nothing’s changed.”

His eyes glance to her stomach on their own accord. Scully giggles slightly.

“Well, apart from that but it’s not too different.”

There’s a conversation they need to have, about his place here, in the baby’s life and in hers. Mulder doesn’t doubt he’s the child’s father but still, he was dead, she grieved and perhaps moved on, and now he’s back. That can’t just swept under the carpet.

But that’s a conversation they can have tomorrow. Or tonight. For now, he nods, taking up her offer.

“If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t,” she says with a smile. “Just don’t steal all the covers, okay.”

“I won’t if you don’t sleep diagonally.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't end fics to save my life.


	5. She's hiding behind the couch/sofa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ABIF universe.

Mulder makes his way through the crowd, accepting congrats along the way, but his response is just a throw-away thanks as he moves on. His mind is preoccupied, a nagging feeling in his stomach. He just wants to find Scully.

And find her, he does, in the kitchen pulling out another bottle of wine. Why she’s up and getting it, he has no idea. She’s just given birth two days ago, these people shouldn’t even be here.

But they are here and Mulder’s played the part of the host for most of the day now. He’s tired, Arthur’s gone down for a nap, and yet these people have no intention of going anytime soon.

He slips his arms around her waist, his front flush to her back. Scully doesn’t startle, she knows who it is, after all.

“Hey,” she says as she pours the wine into the glass.

“Hey, you seen Emily anywhere?”

Scully rolls her eyes and huffs. “If she’s gone upstairs again—”

“She’s not upstairs,” Mulder cuts in. “I checked. I can’t find her anywhere.” He moves from behind her when she picks up the glasses.

“She’s not outside?” Scully asks as she begins making her way back into the front room, to the person (or people) who wants the wine.

“I can’t see her,” Mulder says as he follows her.

“She’ll be somewhere.” And with that, Scully disappears into the front room.

Mulder sighs. He’s been looking for Emily for thirty minutes now. She’d been down all day, he hadn’t disregarded her protest when Scully had forced her back downstairs, not missed the way she ran upstairs when Maggie came over and instantly made a beeline for Arthur, ignoring her granddaughter. Mulder knew what was up, having been in this situation himself, and he so desperately wanted to find his daughter.

He checks the last and final room he hasn’t looked: the basement.

“Emily!” he calls as he makes his way down the steps.

The room had changed quite a bit in nine years. No longer was it Mulder’s domain as much as it was Emily’s. A den was made from the couch when she was six and while it doesn’t get much usage anymore, there are occasions.

Why he didn’t think of checking here first, Mulder will never know.

He makes his way over to the den.

“I know you’re in there, Em.”

“Go away!” An upset voice calls, followed by a sniffle.

She’s been crying, he thinks and his heart breaks. But Mulder has no intention of going anywhere, he plonks himself down on the couch.

“I’m gonna sit here,” he says to her gently. “And when you want to talk, you can come to me. Or I’ll come to you.”

There’s a moment of silence before a shuffle. The blanket is parted and a hand appears. Mulder smiles, standing and making his way into the den.

He’s immediately met with a red-eyed Emily.

“Oh, Emi…” he coos and brings her into his chest. It elicits more tears and cries from her.

Mulder’s never fit beneath the den. Scully fits fine but he’s all bent knees and slouched upper body.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his hand soothing through her hair.

“Nothing, I’m fine.” A sniff.

Mulder can’t help but smile. So much like her mother.

“Well, I don’t think that’s true,” he says kindly. “You can tell me.”

“Mommy won’t let me play upstairs,” she mumbles into his t-shirt. “I asked her and she said no, we have people round and I have to play with the other kids. I don’t want to play with the other kids.”

She begins wailing and immediately Mulder knows something has happened.

“Why don’t you want to play with the other kids?”

He pads carefully, so much like Scully, one wrong move will have her closing up and retreating away.

Into his shirt, she mutters: _JacupPakkasedudidn’tluvmeanmur._

“What was that?”

Another sniff and she moves her way so her words are more audible.

“Jacob Parker said you didn’t love me anymore.”

In that moment, Mulder decides he doesn’t like this Jacob Parker kid.

“That’s not true, Em. I’ll always love you.”

“Not just you. Mommy too.”

“Why did he say that?”

Emily shrugs.

“There must be a reason,” says Mulder.

Emi moves away from him but keeps her eyes at the floor.

“Because Arthur is here now. He said your parents can only love one child at a time and that’s why he’s an only child because his parents want to love him forever.”

Yep, Mulder definitely hates Jacob Parker.

He wipes away the fresh tears that have begun to fall.

“Well, Jacob Parker is wrong,” he begins to say. “We love you just as much as we did before. Just because Arthur’s here doesn’t mean we don’t stop loving you, okay?”

Emily looks unsure. “Really?”

“Really,” he nods and brings Emi back into his embrace. “I mean, look at Mommy, she’s third down the line and does Grandma love her any less than Uncle Billy or Aunty Missy?”

Emily shakes her head.

“See? Jacob Parker doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

Emily snuggles into his chest. All the crying has made her sleepy.

“Can you stay here with me?” she mutters.

Mulder smiles. “I’d love to, Emi, but there are a lot of people upstairs and I need to start getting them out. Want to help?”

Surprisingly, Emily nods.

“Good. We need to find Mommy first, though.”

Scully is still in the front room, talking to Maggie. Mulder and Emily make their way over to her and Scully smiles when she sees them both.

“You found her then?”

“Yeah, she was hiding behind the couch.”

Emily manages to catch Maggie’s attention and as their daughter is preoccupied, Mulder takes the seat next to Scully.

“Who does Jacob Parker belong to?”

“He’s Ellen’s nephew, why?”

Mulder grimaces and glances towards Emily who isn’t paying attention.

“I found Emily crying. This Jacob Parker said we didn’t love her anymore because of Arthur. That’s why she wanted to stay upstairs and not play with the others.”

Scully looks crestfallen.

“I wish she told me when I sent her downstairs.”

Mulder shrugs. “Well…we are dealing with a mini you.”

It gets a smile out of Scully before it falls and she stands.

“I need to feed Arthur. I’ll take Emi, you talk to Ellen.”

Mulder lets out a breath. Talking to people, especially when their Scully’s friends, isn’t his forte.

“Okay,” he says, unsure how he’s going to go about it. “But can we start getting rid of these people when you come back?”

“Yeah,” Scully agrees. He can see it in her eyes that she’s getting tired of people in her house.

“Come on, Emi.” She reaches her hand out towards her daughter.

“Where are we going?”

“Upstairs. You don’t need to be down here anymore.”

Mulder watches as Emily takes Scully’s hand and the two disappear out of the room.

The thing with Ellen’s nephew gets sorted. As the house quickly empties, Jacob apologises to Emily and all seems well again. Emily is happy again, her head against Mulder’s arm and her bare feet resting on Scully’s thighs, Mulder knows there’s no doubt in Emi’s mind that her parents love her.


	6. Day 6

I'm gonna miss day 6 for now and come back to it afterwards. I'm just not in the emotional state to write this day. Come back on the 1st November and something should be here. 


	7. I lost our baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the run.

He putters about the place, picking up yesterday’s clothes, tidying their suitcases away, throwing the cans of coke into the bin.

Really, he’s just looking for something to do with himself.

Scully says in bed. Her back to him, huddled beneath the covers. She’s quiet but if he stops and stays still, he can hear the faint sounds of crying.

The calendar marked William’s birthday.

Mulder tosses the towel on the back of the chair, changes into fresh clothes; shorts and a t-shirt because they aren’t going anywhere today. He hangs the towel up.

It’s all for something to do. Until he has nothing more to do.

Slowly, he creeps up onto the bed, situates himself behind her and gently moves the duvet from over her head.

As expected, she doesn’t fight back nor do anything. It’s almost like the cover was still over her.

“Hey, Scully,” he says gently. He picks up the hair, longer than she’s ever wore it in 10 years and nuzzles softly against her neck. His other hand finds her hand, palm against the back of it, and entwines their fingers. She clutches his hand.

“I lost him,” she chokes out. “I lost our baby.”

Mulder holds her tighter, her words sending bouts of black sadness blooming in his chest and stomach.

“You didn’t lose him, Scully,” Mulder says. Usually they don’t talk. Usually, holding her is enough.

“But I don’t know where he is.” She splutters on that last bit, giving way to a whole new batch of tears and sniffles.

Mulder hushes her gently.

“He’s safe, that’s all you need to know. Safe and happy and free.”

Free because they’re not.

She shifts in his arms, rolling more onto her back in order to look up at him, her eyes big and blue and wet.

“Do you hate me?”

It feels like a million rocks have tumbled down onto him. Her vulnerability kills him. He wipes the fresh tear streaks away and shakes his head.

“No Scully, I don’t hate you.”

She turns fully, burying her head into the chest and Mulder holds her whilst her body quakes and shakes.

He putters about the place, picking up yesterday’s clothes, tidying their suitcases away, throwing the cans of coke into the bin.

Really, he’s just looking for something to do with himself.

Scully says in bed. Her back to him, huddled beneath the covers. She’s quiet but if he stops and stays still, he can hear the faint sounds of crying.

The calendar marked William’s birthday.

Mulder tosses the towel on the back of the chair, changes into fresh clothes; shorts and a t-shirt because they aren’t going anywhere today. He hangs the towel up.

It’s all for something to do. Until he has nothing more to do.

Slowly, he creeps up onto the bed, situates himself behind her and gently moves the duvet from over her head.

As expected, she doesn’t fight back nor do anything. It’s almost like the cover was still over her.

“Hey, Scully,” he says gently. He picks up the hair, longer than she’s ever wore it in 10 years and nuzzles softly against her neck. His other hand finds her hand, palm against the back of it, and entwines their fingers. She clutches his hand.

“I lost him,” she chokes out. “I lost our baby.”

Mulder holds her tighter, her words sending bouts of black sadness blooming in his chest and stomach.

“You didn’t lose him, Scully,” Mulder says. Usually they don’t talk. Usually, holding her is enough.

“But I don’t know where he is.” She splutters on that last bit, giving way to a whole new batch of tears and sniffles.

Mulder hushes her gently.

“He’s safe, that’s all you need to know. Safe and happy and free.”

Free because they’re not.

She shifts in his arms, rolling more onto her back in order to look up at him, her eyes big and blue and wet.

“Do you hate him?”

It feels like a million rocks have tumbled down onto him. Her vulnerability kills him. He wipes the fresh tear streaks away and shakes his head.

“No Scully, I don’t hate you.”

She turns fully, burying her head into the chest and Mulder holds her whilst her body quakes and shakes.


	8. Hold still

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pine Bluff Variant. That married scene with the finger.

“Hold still.”

Mulder winces, his broken finger trapped between Scully’s gentle ones. He hates broken bones, hates the way they need to be treated.

“You need to straighten it.”

He gives her a weary look but knows she’s right. He tries to straighten the finger out, nausea and light-headedness make way as a surge of pain zips through his finger. His breathing goes.

“I can’t Scully,” he cries, shaking his head from side to side furiously. “Hurts too bad.” Panic rises in his chest.

“I need you to breathe Mulder,” Scully tells him. Her attention changes from his finger to him, a hand against his cheek, a thumb soothing against the skin. “In and out, okay.” She begins to breathe slowly, showing him what he needs to do.

Mulder nods, copying her.

“Good,” she says with a smile. There’s no time to make a trip to a hospital. Scully needs to be gone from his apartment, sooner rather than later.

“I’m gonna straighten it, okay. Hold on to something. Squeeze if you need to.”

Fear begins to grow in his stomach again at the thought of that pain but Mulder focuses on his breathing. His palms are too sweaty to grip the leather couch so they grip Scully’s waist instead.

Scully pays no attention to where his hand is, her gaze now back on his hand.

“Ready?” she asks and Mulder nods. He holds his breath.

“Don’t hold your breath,” she says, noticing. “Keep breathing.”

He nods again, words unable to form and resumes his slow breathing.

“Okay…one, two… _three_.” On the third number, his finger clicks back into place. At some point he closed his eyes, there’s a brief moment of pain and then…nothing. It’s stopped hurting.

He lets out a final slow breath and smiles at her.

“Thank you,” Mulder says. He releases his strong grip on her side ( _sorry_ ) and puts his good hand back down again.

Scully smiles back, a hand combing through his hair.

“I need to set it. It’ll start hurting again soon.”

She wanders off into the kitchen to find the first-aid kit she, “ _accidentally_ ” left behind one time. While his finger doesn’t hurt, Mulder doesn’t look at it. Injuries aren’t his forte and he’d rather live in a state of ignorance on the severity of his finger.

Scully returns moments later with a splint and some bandages. They’re quiet as she fixes him up and once she’s done she starts packing away the leftovers and heads towards the door.

“You’re not angry with me, are you?” Mulder asks before she can dash away.

Scully turns back and smiles again. “No Mulder, I’m not angry with you.”

He smiles back, relieved. “Good.”

“I just wish somebody had told me, that’s all.”

_Somebody should have_ , he thinks in hindsight. Of course Scully would never let it go if she saw something suspicious.

“I would never want to be responsible for your death,” she adds with a slight shrug.

There’s something else hiding under there, he knows.

“I trust you Scully,” he says. _Trust._ She thinks because he didn’t tell her, he doesn’t trust her. “I just didn’t want you to get hurt.”

She smiles again with a glance to the floor. “I can look after myself Mulder.” She looks at his finger. “Unlike you, it seems.”

Mulder looks at his finger now, safe within the confines of the splint and bandage.

“This is nothing.” It’s meant as a throwaway comment but they’re both thinking of the victims killed by whatever that weapon is.

“Well…be safe, Mulder.” Scully says as a final goodbye.

“You, too,” he says and tries to ignore the image of Scully dead outside his door.


	9. If you can't sleep...we could have sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Passageways Universe.

He wakes up to the space beside him empty. Cold like nobody was ever there. But somebody was.

He has no reason to worry, she has nowhere else to go, not really.

Mulder makes the short way out of his bedroom. He doesn’t need to look far for Scully sits on the couch, the lamp the only source of light, her skirt wrapped around her like a blanket.

“Hi,” Mulder says alerting her of his presence.

Scully turns, surprised to see him, and looks a little guilty.

“Hi,” she says back. “Did I wake you?”

Mulder shakes his head. “No, not really.”

She smiles before turning her head to look back out the window. It’s still dark out but he can hear the traffic below, the blow of the wind. Scully hugs the blanket tighter.

Scully seemed to be a light sleeper. It would take her forever to fall asleep and when she did, rarely did she sleep through the night. The sound of traffic or even Mulder’s next door neighbour would be enough to wake her up. Lately, she had gotten better at sleeping.

_It’s tomorrow_ , Mulder realises. The thought of tomorrow is keeping her up.

He moves to sit in the empty space beside her, shivering in the cold morning, regretting not putting more clothes on.

“You can come under this if you’re cold,” Scully says, back to looking at him now. She watched him shiver. “There’s enough material to fit around both of us.”

Mulder takes her up on her offer, shuffling closer and gripping hold of one end of her skirt, pulling it around him. Beneath it, he’s met with wonderful, warm, bare Scully skin.

His arms go around her and she leans back into him. Mulder inhales the pure scent of Scully. Devoid of any chemicals, just her.

He’ll miss it.

“You worried about tomorrow?” he asks.

“Not exactly. More just…what do I tell them?”

_Them_. Ethan. Her family. People who live 200 years in the past. They don’t exist in Mulder’s timeline and he doesn’t exist in hers.

“Just tell them you fell through a wormhole and into the bed of a very attractive albeit spooky Agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.”

That earns him an elbow to the ribs and he laughs.

“What? Haven’t they stopped burning women for being witches?”

“Witches don’t exist,” she says with a smile.

“They do, they just hide it better.”

He watches as she takes a breath before asking.

“Am I a witch?”

Mulder pretends to size her up.

“Nah,” he says with a shake of his head.

She relaxes back into him.

They sit in quiet for a few moments more, huddled beneath a skirt that belongs in the 17th century along with its owner.

“You know, if you can’t sleep,” his hand begins to creep up towards her breast. “We could have sex.”

“Mulder…” He can hear the protest in her voice.

She’s right, she’s already conflicted. His hand retreats.

“Sorry, that was inappropriate.”

Scully shifts again.

“No, I’m sorry,” she tells him. “I shouldn’t have agreed. We knew it would end soon anyway.”

_Why? You can’t help who you love._

Mulder nods. This was the price he knew he would have to pay. That someday she would need to go home. Well, that day has finally came.

“Can I kiss you, at least?” he asks, heart on his sleeve. “One last time.”

She thinks for a moment then nods. He brings his head down towards her, his lip touching hers, kissing her because after tomorrow, he’ll never get to again.


	10. Did you hiss at me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season Seven.

It’s nearing noon when it becomes apparent they should (and need) to get out of bed.

Mulder was what one would call a morning person. He could have two hours of sleep and would still wake up between 5 and 6 am. Sleeping or even staying in bed was never an option. The couch allowed him some time to lie down longer but if it was a bed- motel room or his own- he was out of that thing.

His bed partner was another matter. Early morning flights taught Mulder that Scully liked to sleep in, that waking up early was almost impossible. She would do it but she would grumble about it all the way to the airport.

So while Mulder had been laying in this bed for almost four hours now (after forcing himself to go back to sleep) Scully had woke up an hour ago. He couldn’t make himself leave the bed. The feel of her against him while she slept was something he’d not quite gotten sick off. Besides, rising early and staying put meant he could stare at her without her getting self-conscious and he feeling awkward about it.

Now with Scully awake, the need to get up had began overpowering the need to lay next to her, however Scully had other ideas.

He’d unlocked a lot of Scully’s since this thing began. Gone was the prim, proper, and professional Scully though she was still present on cases and sometimes in the office and instead she had been replaced by a playful Scully. From playing footsie in meetings, to running away and forcing him to chase after her on the beach in LA after that terrible movie, Playful Scully was beginning to become one of his favourites.

Now she was lingering by his crotch to which his dick had got excited about only to be disappointed to find she wasn’t about to do what it thought she was about to do. She was instead huddled beneath the cover.

“What are you doing?” Mulder asks, a slight smile on his face along with a bewildered look.

“It’s my cave.”

Mulder chuckles a bit. “ _Riiight_ …” he says with slow nod. He glances towards the clock that now tells him it’s closer to half twelve than twelve.

“Well, we should move.” He goes to do just that before a sound exits Scully’s mouth, a sound that has him pausing and debating if he’s just heard what he’s just heard.

“Did you… _hiss_ at me?”

She does it again, her face scrunching and another _hiss_ falling from her mouth.

He fully lies back down, slowly and cautiously, unsure what to make of this situation.

When he’s laying back down Scully smiles, exiting her “ _cave_ ” and coming to nuzzle against his chest. Now he realises what she’s doing.

“Seems as though as cat has taken over my partner.”

She let’s out a perfect imitation of a meow sound and Mulder laughs, his arms wrapping around her. This Scully equally has his heart softening and dick hardening.

“Okay Scully, we can stay in bed,” he says with the hope she’ll use her claws later.


	11. Take your medicine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU world where Will lives with m/s.

The living room door creaks open. Both Mulder and Scully turn their attention to the door as William peeps around the corner. His head down, glum look on his face.

“Mommy, I have a sore head.”

She looks to Mulder who sighs. Here we go again, she thinks.

Scully turns back to Will, a smile across her face.

“What’s wrong with it?” she asks.

“It’s thumping,” he says, a hand on his head.

Will being put past his bedtime was becoming a regular occurrence. The boy simply just didn’t want to go to sleep. Excuses ranged from anything; hungry, thirsty, too hot, too cold, anything to stall and stay out of bed. Tonight: headache.

“Well, looks like we’ll have to sort that out.”

Scully rises from the couch and makes her way to the kitchen. They found ways to see if Will was lying or telling the truth. Giving him water when he was thirsty instead of juice, fruit when he was hungry instead of candy, and medicine when he was supposedly ill.

“Looks like you’re going to have to take your medicine,” Scully says as she reaches to the far back of the medicine cabinet for one she knows Will can’t stand.

William’s eyes widen. “Actually,” he says with a slight laugh very similar to Mulder’s. “It’s…it’s not so bad now.”

Scully smirks, knowing she’s won. She begins putting the bottle and spoon back in their respective places.

“You know where you need to be now?”

Caught out, Will hangs his head and begins making his way back towards the staircase.

“Feeling better now, Will?” she hears Mulder asks.

She doesn’t catch Will’s reply and he’s making his way up the stairs when she comes back into the living room.

“It’s your fault he doesn’t go to sleep at night,” she says sitting back down.

Mulder looks offended. “What did I do?”

“Do your cryptic bedtime story’s ring any bells?”

Mulder rolls his eyes. “It’s your scepticism genes if he’s scared of those.”

Scully shakes her head and rolls her own eyes. Mulder always blames her if Will exhibits any un-Mulder-ish characteristics. 


	12. Keep those cold feet away from me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 3.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't from any prompt list. This is a headcanon.

She knew as soon as she laid down that sleep wasn’t going to come. Each time she closes her eyes she pictures Melissa dead on her apartment floor, her name and tissue sample in the file, even vague memories of what happened to her during her abduction. They all keep her awake.

Scully’s eyes are fixed on the motel room door. There’s this irrational fear that somebody is just going to barge their way in and take her away. They are fugitives now, she purposes. Jobless, homeless. There’s nowhere they can do where they won’t be found. She doesn’t even think she’s safe in this little town that’s not even on the map.

The motel room becomes too big all of a sudden. Too many entrances where somebody could get in.

There’s an adjoining door. There’s always an adjoining door and it’s never locked.

She’s moving towards it before she has the chance to really stop herself. She doesn’t want to stop herself. There’s no more book morally binding her to her own bed and even if there was…Scully doesn’t think she’d listen to it.

He’s lying on the bed when she peeps in. The TV is on, muted.

“Are you awake?” she asks even though she knows he is.

He smiles when he sees her. “You can’t sleep, either?” he asks.

Scully shakes her head.

“Can I…” It’s stupid. Maybe she should just turn around to go back to her own room but as she looks behind her, that room looks cold and uninviting, people lurking in the shadows. Mulder’s room is warm and safe, at least that’s what she tells herself.

He’s propped up on an elbow when she turns back around and Scully sighs.

“Can I sleep here with you?”

And maybe it’s not what he thought she would ask. He looks surprised almost, before his face relaxes and he rolls over.

“Course you can,” he says with the softest smile.

Scully smiles back and makes the short way to the bed. The feel and knowledge that she’s sharing a bed with another person- let alone Mulder- is strange. She’s not had anyone in her bed since Ethan and that’s getting too far away to remember anymore.

“Just keep those cold feet away from me.” He jokes and she laughs slightly, grateful for the feeling it causes in her chest.

She snuggles in deeper and shuts her eyes. There’s no other person in the world who understands how she feels right now, nobody else who’s lost a family member and then had to run. Nobody else who’s died and come back.

“Are you scared?” she finds herself asking.

There’s a pause before he answers. Long and Scully opens her eyes, trying to gauge what he’s thinking, his reaction.

It’s distant and that scares her just as much as the situation does.

But he comes back and smiles, his arm tightening around her and presses a kiss to the top of her head.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” he says. “You sleep.”

And Scully knows she isn’t going to get an answer tonight, she doesn’t need an answer really, because there’s nobody else in the world feeling what she feels. She is scared and knows he is, too.

So Scully silences her mind as much as she can, rids herself of the images that try to enter her vision and focuses upon the calming scent of Mulder.

But then the mattress is shifting and the arm that was around her leaves.

“I’m gonna call Skinner,” she hears Mulder say and then he’s gone. That warmth and safety is gone and there’s an urge to tell him to come back, that Skinner can wait, but it’s no use. Mulder is miles away from here and from her, too far away to really feel anymore.

So she snuggles down into the covers, pulls them around her as if they’re going to protect her, and forces herself to sleep.


End file.
